


Just You and Me

by strange_h3arts



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Silva, Blow Jobs, Helicopters, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, i'm not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:44:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_h3arts/pseuds/strange_h3arts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Bond suddenly realizes that he is enclosed in a very small space with a flirtatious psychopath. This is a bad idea. <i></i></i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just You and Me

The helicopters descend slowly, whipping Silva’s meticulously styled hair into a disheveled mess. Bond inches closer to the cyberterrorist, never lowering his gun. He doubts Silva would be insane enough attempt an escape- but then again, Bond has incorrectly predicted the man’s intentions from the moment they met. 

Silva chuckles darkly, his features baleful. “I suppose you couldn’t do it on your own, could you?” He smirks, as if daring Bond to cave in and shoot him. “No, you had to ruin our little game… Mummy’s tattletale, hmm?”

Bond ignores the barb and glances at Severine’s stiffening body, bent double and still tied to the rock. - _Like Andromeda_ , Bond thinks vaguely- _but the hero hadn’t saved her._ He feels a pang of regret and pushes it aside.

Silva begins to speak again, presumably to throw out another taunt, but his words are mercifully drowned out by the deafening roar of the choppers as they touch down on the dusty earth.

A dozen special-forces agents emerge from the side doors, carrying assault rifles. Silva laughs and raises his palms in an expression of peace.

“I’m flattered, James. Is this all for me?”

Bond keeps the handgun trained between Silva’s eyes as two agents suddenly dart out and pin the cyberterrorist to the ground, pinning his arms roughly behind his back. Silva grins widely into the dirt, spitting out blood from an apparent split lip. He barely puts up a struggle as the agents wrestle him to a standing position and march him to the nearest helicopter, his hands restrained in cuffs.

He winks at Bond as he passes by, and the agent rolls his eyes in disgust. _Typical._

Bond trails behind them, stopping to talk to an HQ agent before climbing inside the chopper.

“I think I should go with him,” Bond says, and gestures to Silva, who’s now being cuffed to a metal bench inside the cabin. “Maybe I can get something out of him.”

“Sure, that’s fine. As long as you don’t kill him,” the other agent grins. “Here, this is for his cuffs. Just in case,” he adds as an afterthought, dropping a tiny metal key into Bond’s palm. “You can go ahead in.”

Bond steps inside the cabin and takes a seat across from Silva, staring at him warily.

“James. How nice of you to join me,” Silva grins, still managing to look utterly unruffled even with blood trailing down his chin.

Bond regards him shrewdly. The man is… an enigma. He appears to be completely unperturbed at having been captured, which is disturbing, to say the least.

And he’s looking at Bond in a way that makes the agent want to shudder. It’s predatory, but there’s also a hint of amusement in his eyes- like Bond is some kind of _present_ that’s just waiting to be unwrapped.

The door to the cabin slides shut, and Bond and Silva are left alone apart from the pilot and the copilot- but even then, they are separated from them by a thick layer of bulletproof glass.

It’s dark, and Silva’s hair is luminous. Bond steadies himself in his seat as the helicopter begins to lift off with a great rumble of engines.

The chopper rocks from side to side and Silva pitches forward, only restrained by the metal cuffs that are cutting into his wrists. It must hurt, but the cyberterrorist only smiles and closes his eyes. Bond watches him silently, unsure of how to begin his interrogation. They do have a long flight ahead of them, after all… 

Suddenly Silva opens his eyes again and looks at Bond intently, his stare caught somewhere between homicidal and sensuous. “Mr. Bond,” he murmurs, leaning his head casually against the metal wall, “what exactly are you doing here?”

For a moment Bond isn’t sure how to respond. Finally he schools his face into a serious expression and meets Silva’s gaze, refusing to let the man get the best of him.

“Somebody has to watch you. And I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Bond says coolly, his eyes utterly dispassionate.

Silva grins, fascinated. “Oh? Well, I’d be happy to oblige,” he replies, cracking his neck from side to side with a small groan.

Bond pauses, surprised by Silva’s sudden compliance. “Right,” he continues, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “The first thing I’d like to know is how you managed to get into our system.”

Silva throws his head back and laughs, the sound multiplied in the small space. “James. MI6’s security measures are abysmal. A _child_ could bypass your safeguards,” he chuckles, his heavy-lidded eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Bond frowns, annoyed. “I’ll be sure to tell that to Q branch.”

Silva smirks, obviously pleased with himself. “I think the real question is, _why_ did I do it?” the cyberterrorist goads, raising one challenging eyebrow.

Bond sighs and decides to indulge him. “All right then. Why?”

“If I told you now, it would ruin everything,” Silva replies after a suspenseful pause, the tiny smile on his full lips just _begging_ Bond to punch him in the face.

Bond suddenly stands up, the seed of an idea emerging at the back of his mind. _A little intimidation couldn’t hurt._

“Is that so?” He crosses over to stand in front of Silva, his imposing form casting a shadow over the seated man’s body.

“What if it is? What are you going to do about it?” Silva’s lip curls, exposing a perfect set of straight white teeth.

“Who’s to say I won’t kill you?” Bond growls, his hand twitching ominously for the Walther in his jacket pocket.

Silva shakes his head slowly, unimpressed. “You won’t kill me. What would Mummy think if you gunned down her most valuable source of information?”

Bond snorts. “Don’t be so sure.” But Silva is _right_ , damn it, and he knows it.

Bond lowers his hand, and Silva’s expression suddenly changes. His eyes impossibly dark, he thoughtfully licks the drying blood on his lower lip and sweeps his gaze over Bond’s body, seemingly appraising him.

Bond suddenly realizes that he is enclosed in a very small space with a flirtatious psychopath. _This is a bad idea._

“James,” Silva murmurs, his voice dropping low and hushed. “Oh, James. There is such a thing as too much control.” He meets Bond’s eyes in an incredibly knowing way, and Bond hates it.

“Just look at you: all this power, and nothing to do with it…” Silva continues, tilting his chin upwards to expose a chiseled neckline. 

“…You need to relax. Hmm?” His words are careful, almost soothing. Bond feels his guard dropping and inwardly chides himself. _This man is dangerous._

“You don’t know me,” Bond hears himself say, and curses the uncertainty registering in his voice.

“But I do, James. I do,” Silva nods, his face suddenly serious. “More than you know.”

Bond furrows his brow in confusion, becoming aware that he’s letting Silva get to him. This needs to stop. _Now._

Silva’s voice interrupts his reverie, almost a whisper.

“Uncuff me.”

Bond recoils, staring at the cyberterrorist with disbelief written on his face. “What? Why the hell would I do that?” he demands finally, feeling the urge to laugh at the ridiculous question.

“Why not?” Silva shoots back, his face unreadable. “It’s not as if I can hurt you. I’m unarmed.”

“Then why would you want to be uncuffed?” Bond retorts, regarding Silva suspiciously. He isn’t sure what to make of the man’s sudden change in tactic.

A slow grin breaks out on Silva’s face. “I can help you… _relax_ ,” he replies slyly. His voice is low, almost a purr.

“Perhaps we can finish what we started earlier… yes?” Silva stares at the agent unabashedly, not a single hint of insincerity apparent on his face.

His next words are almost a whisper. “I know you wanted to… I could feel the heat as I touched you. I knew you wanted it to go further. Knew you wanted to feel me against your skin…”

He trails off, the implications of his words obvious. Silva’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, and Bond notices that the man’s pupils are dilated.

Silva looks down at the metal encircling his wrists. “But I can’t touch you with my hands tied down… hmm?”

Bond swallows and takes a step back, his mouth suddenly unbearably dry. He can’t deny the thrill of excitement that had coursed through him at the other man’s words.

What Silva had said was undeniably true: back on the island, hadn’t Bond hoped that the cyberterrorist wasn’t bluffing? Hadn’t goosebumps broken out on his neck as the man stroked his exposed chest?

For a moment he imagines what it would be like to take Silva up on his offer… Bond closes his eyes and exhales slowly, trying to ignore the pangs of arousal travelling straight to his already half-hard cock. Silva lets out a low chuckle, obviously noticing the agent’s discomfort.

And then, Bond has an idea.

He opens his eyes again and regains composure, fixing Silva with a challenging stare.

“Is that so?” he asks conversationally, stepping close enough to Silva that he can feel the other man’s body heat. “Why don’t you prove it?”

Bond slowly unzips his fly, almost unaware of what he’s doing. “Do it. And then maybe I’ll think about uncuffing you.”

Silva grins, impressed. “Mr. _Bond_ ,” he murmurs, raising an eyebrow. “I must admit, this is unexpected.”

Silva’s eyes darken as Bond frees his rapidly hardening cock from the confines of his briefs, the tip flushed and shining with fluid. The cyberterrorist lets out a low moan as he detects the musky scent of Bond’s arousal, straining forward against his chains and inhaling deeply.

Bond’s breath catches in his throat as he takes in the man sitting restrained before him, vulnerable and yet somehow completely in control. He hesitates momentarily.

“Lost your nerve, James?” Silva purrs with a raised eyebrow, his full lips only inches away from the thickly veined flesh of Bond’s swelling erection.

That’s enough to make him forgo any doubts. With a shudder, Bond shifts closer so that the tip of his cock is barely brushing against Silva’s grinning mouth. With a muffled groan that sends a rush of arousal slicing through the agent’s body, Silva darts out his tongue and slowly laves it over Bond’s throbbing length, obscenely wrapping his lips around the tip with unbearable gentleness.

Bond shudders deeply, resisting the urge to grab Silva’s head and pull him down to the hilt. The cyberterrorist takes his time, licking and sucking down the agent’s twitching shaft until Bond is practically writhing beneath his touch. And then finally, _finally_ Silva takes him in his mouth and swallows him down, managing to fully engulf Bond’s impressive length with practiced ease. Bond lets out a strangled shout as he bottoms out at the back of Silva’s throat, the wet heat of the man’s mouth overwhelming on his pulsing skin. Silva is _good_ , and he knows it.

Silva pulls away and chuckles, his breath washing hot over the sides of Bond’s cock. The blonde’s own erection is straining hot and insistent against the tailored inseam of his pants, driving him to the edge of release from the friction alone. Teasingly, Silva probes his tongue over Bond’s slit, savoring the taste of the pre-come that steadily leaks out at his touch. And then he goes down again, the muscles of his throat tightening deliciously over the agent’s length.

Bond gasps and entwines his fingers tightly in Silva’s hair, pulling hard enough to hurt. Silva moans wetly around his cock, the sound sending delicious vibrations down his entire length. Bond’s legs feel shaky beneath him, and he knows that he’s close to coming.

And then suddenly Silva pulls away again; this time far back enough that Bond’s erection is uncomfortably cold.

“Uncuff me,” he orders slowly, a smile twitching at the corner of his slightly swollen lips.

Bond groans, the sudden lack of sensation on his cock almost unbearable.

“Just do it,” Silva whispers, his voice low and soothing.

And then Bond caves.

He fumbles in his pocket for the key, his cock straining hot and swollen against his open fly.

Silva’s grin widens into a lecherous smile as the agent circles him to unlock the closure, slipping the metal cuffs off of his bruising wrists.

“That’s much better. Don’t you think?” Silva murmurs, his eyes dark with promise as he slips off the bench and gracefully sinks to his knees.

He sighs appreciatively at the sight of Bond’s flushed cock, shining with his own saliva. “Now… where were we?”

Silva leans in. And then without warning, he slips a quick hand around the back of Bond’s leg and jabs at a weak point behind his knee, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from the agent as his legs collapse uselessly beneath him. Bond hits the ground hard, his cock still painfully erect as he lies in shock on the cold metal floor.

“Shh. Shh,” Silva chides, running a gentle hand over the side of Bond’s sweating face as he swiftly snatches the handcuffs from the agent’s hand and snaps one over his right wrist. Humming to himself, he deftly secures the other cuff to a steel bar on the bottom edge of the cabin wall, effectively trapping Bond in the very position Silva had been in only moments before. 

Suddenly regaining his wits, Bond thrashes violently against the tight handcuffs. His chest tightens with building panic.

“ _No, no, no_ ,” Silva whispers, placing a warning palm over the flat of Bond’s chest to calm him. “Don’t waste your energy.”

Silva leans in close enough that Bond can feel his warm breath on the skin of his neck, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of the agent’s mouth. Bond tenses beneath him, snapping his head away from the other man’s touch. Silva just laughs and buries his face beneath Bond’s jaw, the sudden hot touch of his tongue eliciting a deep shudder from the restrained agent.

Bond groans as his painfully hard cock lightly rubs against the fabric of Silva’s pants, the friction almost unbearable.

“Don’t worry, James,” Silva murmurs, running his lips down the side of Bond’s neck. “I’ll let you come. What fun would it be if I didn’t?”

The cyberterrorist suddenly slips a deft hand down Bond’s stomach to encircle his oversensitive cock, eliciting a strangled cry from the agent as he swipes his thumb over the bead of pre-come welling up at his tip.

And then Silva’s unzipping his fly and pulling out his own heavy erection, letting out a tiny moan as he begins to slide his fist up and down the thickly veined shaft.

“Look at us,” Silva pants, with one hand wrapped around Bond’s cock and the other tightly pumping his own. “Who would have thought… that we would meet our matches… like this?” He closes his eyes and smiles as he talks, getting off on the sound of his own voice.

“Come for me, James,” Silva groans, his tip purpling between his fingers as his strokes grow more rapid. Bleached locks of the cyberterrorist’s normally elegantly combed hair are now hanging in his face, and he momentarily slips into his native tongue as he nears release.

“ _Come te sientes? Vente, James, vente…”_

The man’s grip is slick and firm and Bond can’t take it anymore. He comes with a shuddering moan, his release leaking hot and wet over Silva’s fist. His vision darkening at the edges, he slumps against the metal wall of the cabin, his softening cock pulsing beneath Silva’s fingers.

Silva isn’t far behind, and a few seconds later he cries out and arches his back, hot ropes of come spilling eratically from his shining tip.

Shakily, Silva braces himself against the floor of the cabin and laughs breathlessly.

“ _Dios…_ ”

After a pause, he reaches down and gently dabs the come from Bond’s twitching length, cupping the hot skin tenderly as he withdraws his hand. Bond sighs, sagging bonelessly at the touch.

Silva draws back and regards Bond fondly, inwardly congratulating himself. Then he leans in again, close enough that his smooth-shaven cheek is pressed against Bond’s own, his warm breath ghosting across the shell of the agent’s ear. “I thoroughly enjoyed myself, Mr. Bond.” He strokes a hand across Bond’s jaw, pausing to trace around the Adam’s apple in a gesture reminiscent of the one he had done just a few hours earlier. “But the best part is yet to come….”

He presses a gentle kiss to Bond’s full lower lip, chuckling as the agent recoils beneath him. 

“...Imagine their faces when the helicopter lands and they find you like this? _Half-naked… spent_... I look forward to it, yes?”

Bond’s chest fills with horror as the cyberterrorist pulls away, laughing.

"You can't--" He trails off, his stomach sinking at the broad smile growing on his captor’s face.

"Oh, James,” Silva replies, laughing. “But I _can_."

\--


End file.
